


There Goes My Life

by MsHydeStylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Colleagues with Benefits, Emergency c-section, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Harry is 40, Lactation Kink, Louis is 47, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Nipple Play, Pregnant Sex, Silver Larry, Unplanned Pregnancy, early term birth, fear of miscarriage, the condom broke ok?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24750571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsHydeStylinson/pseuds/MsHydeStylinson
Summary: Metallic taste in the mouth, check. Aversions to favourite foods, check.Nausea without throwing up, check. A heightened sense of smell, check.Sore and sensitive nipples, check.It had felt as though Harry had been ticking off boxes from his own mental checklist and every new addition brought him closer to an existential crisis.Pregnant.Everything over the last few weeks began to make sense; thoughts he pushed from his mind because he was too busy, and to be honest too scared, to think about. Getting knocked up from a few-night’s-stand was something that happened to teenagers and/or uni students, but certainly not to a forty-year-old Member of Parliament such as himself.***Or, the one where Harry is single, a Member of Parliament, gets knocked up and has to deal with navigating motherhood in his forties.  And Louis? Well, his life is about to change forever as well.  This is a tale about colleagues with benefits and the consequences that can come with that.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 45
Kudos: 303
Collections: Momrry Fic Fest 2020





	There Goes My Life

**Author's Note:**

> First thing I have to say is I really don’t like mpreg fics (nor kid fics either) and hence I have only read a handful of them. So, when Jennie [Canadianlarrie](http://canadianlarrie.tumblr.com) (my wonderful beta, friend and my official smut writer) saw the blogpost about Mummy-Harry fest and said we should do this, I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy. However, I wound up saying ’yes’ to it and decided to wait patiently for the prompts to get inspired. 
> 
> I don’t know what the heck happened, but when I woke up the following morning, I had a clear vision about the story I wanted to write. And not only this one, but I also envisioned the sequel for it too because I knew I couldn’t fit the story into 8k which was maximum word count for this fest. (And who are we kidding, short fics are not my forte) So, there will be part two too in the near future. 
> 
> Edit. 13.11.2020 The sequel isn’t forgotten but it’s taking longer than I expected. I’ve had too many fics (with due dates) to write and I therefore haven’t had enough time to focus for the sequel yet. I don’t want to rush it just because I feel I need to post it. It deserves more. 
> 
> I must add that both of these fics will be their own independent stories and there won’t be a cliffhanger at the end of this. I just found this storyline so interesting to write and didn’t want to spoil it by attempting to squeeze more content into a work that must adhere to a maximum word count.
> 
> Thank you, Jennie! Again. For everything, and especially pushing me to cross my boundaries by exploring a brand new (to me) trope. I couldn’t write these fics without your help. X
> 
> And I also want to thank the Mods for organising this fest!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not real, never happened, complete fiction, etc. Please do not take any of this seriously, as it is all fake. Please do not translate or repost on any other site.

It was in the middle of his birthday dinner when the stone-cold realization hit him like a bolt of lightning out of a clear blue sky; it was hard, abrupt, and really, really fucking unexpected. 

An impromptu ensemble gathered, formed by his beloved family, friends, colleagues, and they began singing _Happy Birthday_ in a god-awful pitch as a chocolate drip cake was being carried to their table by the general manager of the restaurant. Four candles had been placed strategically on top of it so as to not infringe the display of the intricate icing; one for each decade that he’d graced this earth. 

Just like a trained monkey, he blew them out and a resounding cheer erupted throughout the private dining room at the Dorchester Hotel in London.

“Cut the cake, Harry.” Jeff handed him a knife and Harry absentmindedly cut a slice of the cake and slapped it down on an ornamented plate.

“Try it, Maria made it!” Alexa simultaneously demanded, and Harry did as he was told, he didn’t want to piss her off as it was her wife, who happens to be a Michelin-Star pastry chef, who made it.

“Mmmmmm!” He praised, with such a contrived smile that it made him wonder how his friends didn’t notice that something was off. 

After the cake had been divided amongst the party-goers and the coffee poured and served, Harry tried swallowing another bite before pushing the half-eaten slice of cake aside — which should have been orgasmic had he not felt like throwing up in terror.

In addition, the glass of his favourite Tempranillo had remained considerably untouched in front of him due to the off-putting, almost metallic taste but since no one else mentioned anything untoward, Harry let it go and didn’t request a new bottle be uncorked just for him. Although he realised at that moment it wouldn’t have changed a thing.

It also explained why he’d been struggling lately to consume his healthy breakfast of avocado on toast with two soft boiled eggs. The very same he had almost everyday for over a decade; long before avocado even had become as trendy as it had. 

When the dinner plates had been cleared, the guests took the opportunity to digest their meal by striking up more informal conversations before the cake had been served.

Then Glenne, a fellow MP, commented on how quickly time flew, as her niece would soon give birth to her first child. That snowballed into the neighbouring women at the table to reminisce and share their own pregnancy stories, and Harry couldn’t focus on anything else afterward. 

Metallic taste in the mouth, check. Aversions to favourite foods, check. 

Nausea without throwing up, check. A heightened sense of smell, check. 

Sore and sensitive nipples, check. 

It had felt as though Harry had been ticking off boxes from his own mental checklist and every new addition brought him closer to an existential crisis. 

_Pregnant_.

Everything over the last few weeks began to make sense; thoughts he pushed from his mind because he was too busy, and to be honest too scared, to think about. Getting knocked up from a few-night’s-stand was something that happened to teenagers and/or uni students, but certainly not to a forty-year-old Member of Parliament such as himself.

Surprisingly, Harry was able to play the role of birthday boy for the rest of the dinner and listen to all the toasts with a saccharine-all-while-scared-shitless smile plastered across his face. 

Perhaps, all his years as a politician advocating for his constituents have taught him to always keep a poker face; no matter what was happening in the world, or the room, around him.

***

When the festivities had ended and he'd said his goodbyes, Harry headed straight to the nearest chemist’s. Glancing furtively around, Harry slinked his way to the corner where the “family planning” items were; ironically the pregnancy tests were next to the condoms. He stood there for a while trying to determine the difference between the numerous tests and their efficacy rates. In the end, Harry grabbed a few different ones and walked to the cashier handling the packages to a young woman behind it. Harry was sure she was able to see what had happened to him and with flushed cheeks, he tapped his card against the reader, thanked her quickly, and rushed out the door. 

The short walk from the tube station to his home was enough to get himself in a marginally better headspace than it had been in since his epiphany at dinner. Once inside, he toed off his shoes and hung his outerwear. He grabbed the carrier bag again and went into the bathroom. 

He carefully removed the tests from the bag, opened the first box and with a neutral expression — bordering on morose — he thoroughly read the instruction leaflet. He repeated the action with every package and it seemed like the rules were pretty simple for each one; wee on the stick and wait. Once completed, he placed the sticks on the bathroom vanity and set the timer on his phone for three minutes. 

And then he waited…

If asked later on to reflect back on what went through his mind during this time — purgatory — he would say that he saw his entire life flash before his eyes, from his childhood and then what the rest of his life _could_ look like if it were positive. 

That’s when the panic set it. 

Fragmented images flashed before him; some of a crying newborn, some of the horrors he’s seen from his own visits to the labour and delivery ward when visiting his newborn nieces and nephews, the sleepless nights, the hundreds of birthday parties to attend for random classmates, the scraped knees and broken hearts, and lastly, the dreadful realization that life as he knew it _could_ be over in a matter of minutes.

After what felt like a thousand agonizing minutes, his phone timer chimed and Harry’s first instinct was to rush out of the bathroom and live eternally in denial. 

He picked up the first test with his trembling hand and turned it over. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes briefly, and prepared for the inevitable.

Negative.

A little spark of hope ignited inside Harry. He summoned the courage and quickly took a look at the second one and —

This time it was definitely positive.

The pink lines were so dark and intimidating that it didn’t leave room for misinterpretation. Defeatedly, Harry picked up the last test and it confirmed what he had suspected all along.

He, without a doubt, was knocked the fuck up.

_Happy sodding birthday to me_ , Harry thought while he stared at his pale reflection in the mirror. Okay, so maybe he had been hoping for an outlandish present on his birthday like a Bentley or at the very least a new set of All Clad saucepans, however, this definitely hadn’t been on his wish list.

Not now, or if he was being completely honest, it had never been. 

And he was content with that. These days it's not imperative for every person of childbearing years to have children. It’s perfectly acceptable to choose to not have children at all. It’s not selfish, in fact, he sees it as a selfless act of humanity. His career and his travel aspirations didn’t meld well with having a child, and bringing a child into the world simply because society expected him to was bullshit, and also unfair to them. 

But here he was now. 

An embryo had implanted itself in his womb and he had absolutely no idea how he was going to handle this situation or tell the father for that matter. With trembling hands, he gathered the test sticks and dropped them in the bin. 

Out of sight. Out of mind. 

But it wasn’t that simple; those solid pink lines would change him forever. No matter what the outcome, his life would never be the same. He knew life isn’t always about being able to dance in a field full of daisies and lord knows Harry had made his own share of mistakes over the years, but this time; he had fucked up badly. 

***

Harry was sat at his usual table in the Jubilee Cafe inside Westminster Hall, his laptop open and a half-eaten greek salad in front of him reading comments on posts with headings as, “how old is too old to have a baby” or “how to surprise my partner by telling him we’re expecting” on the Mumsnet forums. 

These forums are a dumpster fire waiting to happen; one mum berating another mum for still drinking coffee, a different mum chastising another for getting ultrasounds, differences in cultural beliefs, and practices regarding circumcision and vaccinations. No wonder this is such a difficult landscape to navigate. Harry decided that other people’s opinions of him or his choices ultimately wouldn’t impact his choices anyway so there’s no point in giving weight to their insidious yet malignant words.

Every now and then he poked at his salad but rarely did the food actually end up into his mouth. Today seemed to be one of those days when his nausea delighted him all day long. It has been almost two weeks since Harry had discovered the stowaway in his belly and nearly as long to come up with a myriad of excuses to put off making a doctor’s appointment. 

There was a part of Harry that constantly hoped he wouldn’t have to. Maybe nature would realise this had been a huge mistake and would take care of the situation in an _alternative_ way and maybe the embryo wouldn’t be viable in his uterus. 

He definitely wasn’t proud of these thoughts, the opposite really. Some of his closest friends have been wanting a baby for so long without success and here he was praying every night his problem would be solved with bloodstains on his sheet in the morning; how could he not feel ashamed? He was always of the belief that all feelings and thoughts are valid, including intrusive ones like these. He decided the best thing to do was accept it, reject it, and move on. 

_We are not our thoughts_ , he reminds himself. 

The sound of a familiar laugh stirred Harry from his morbid thoughts and when he turned to see who it emitted from, he quickly lowered himself below his laptop screen so the man, Louis, wouldn’t see him. 

His ability to remain conspicuous is due in part to the cafe being more crowded from the lunchtime rush than from Harry’s not so astounding ability to creepily slink behind his screen and remain undetected like a lanky, curly octopus in the ocean. 

Louis was talking on his mobile and thankfully didn’t spot him until he was already sat and eating his sandwich at the other end of the large room. Harry waved his hand, smiled at him awkwardly, and quickly turned his gaze back towards his MacBook.

Any other time Harry would have been thrilled to see Louis and would keenly gesture to join him but now Harry couldn’t face him. He was sure his ‘situation’ was written all over his face and Louis needn’t take more than a few surreptitious glances at Harry for his secret to be revealed. 

Not that it was something Louis shouldn’t be told. Harry would do it (seriously, he would) but not before he got his own shit in order to make an informed decision about the baby. A small, stubborn voice inside him tried to tell him he absolutely should tell Louis _before_ he would do anything because it was his right as a father after all, but Harry quieted that thought quickly.

Friday the 13th. 

Commonly known as an unlucky day for most, it's also the day that changed the direction of his strategically curated life as an MP for his constituency in the county of Cheshire.

It wasn’t the first time he and Louis ended up having sex, but it was the first time Harry regretted it. Not immediately, because the sex was brilliant, but since he found out their last little tryst had consequences. Despite using a condom Harry was one hundred percent sure it must have broken during their last vigorous romp.

Louis was focused on eating, so it gave Harry the opportunity to observe him without getting caught in the act. Louis was a forty-seven-year-old widower from Doncaster, who never failed to mention his Yorkshire heritage even though he had been Londonized ages ago. He was a long-term MP for the West Riding in Yorkshire county and by far, he was one of the most intriguing people Harry had ever met; he was a phenomenal mixture of intelligence, honour and sass. Nevermind that the body he was hiding under his bespoke suits was lean and heavily tattooed. Contrast that with his conservative threads and it was the perfect juxtaposition of laid back yet important and professional. In fact, if Harry had time to date or actually desired a relationship, Louis would be at the very top of his list of candidates to consider for that role. 

But they both were too busy for a relationship, and Harry wasn't sure Louis even wanted to be in one after the loss of his husband a few years back. Harry thought their friendship wasn’t at the level where they could casually discuss past relationships. 

What with Louis’ dick usually in Harry's mouth and arse, and vice versa.

The simplest definition of their current relationship could be ‘friends with benefits without booty calls’. Due to their hectic schedules which included traveling back and forth to their constituencies, they couldn’t make any firm plans to get together, and middle of the night phone sex calls seemed juvenile, so it was usually after a late parliamentary session or a labour party soiree a few times a year where they would fall into bed together. Or stairways, whatever was closest. So their hookups were always left to fate to bring them together. Just like now in the cafe.

_How could I ever fit a baby in my world if going out on a date was something I can’t even find time for?_ , Harry thought as he slammed his laptop closed and slipped it into his shoulder bag ready to go back to work. He briskly stood up and then a sudden pain ripped throughout his lower belly, making him moan quietly. The pain was gone as fast as it came but when Harry started to walk, the pain began again and Harry was sure something wet was starting to leak from inside. Instead of going out, Harry made a beeline for the bathroom and locked himself in the stall furthest from the door. 

With fumbling fingers he opened the button of his trousers, lowered them and sat on the toilet, petrified what he would find. Harry had been used to having small twinges in his groin but this felt something totally different from the lightning crotch. When he finally dared to take a look he saw the tiniest red stain in his white lace boxers but there was definitely more on the paper after he wiped himself. 

_No_ , was the first thought that came to Harry’s mind, which took him by surprise. Maybe his prayers had been heard but suddenly Harry wasn’t sure about this anymore. No, because something was wrong and it terrified him. The pain had eased again and Harry cautiously walked to the sink to wash his hands. He was drying them when the lavatory door opened and Louis stepped inside. 

At that very moment, the pain returned. Stronger than before and it made him reach out for support from the sink with one hand, his other automatically flew to the minuscule swelling of his belly, the same belly he first thought was stubborn holiday weight he couldn’t shake with his morning jogs.

“Harry! What’s wrong?” Louis rushed next to Harry, his blue eyes filled with worry.

“Baby…” Harry groaned, closing his eyes. “I need to go to the hospital.”

“Do you want me to call an ambulance? Or a taxi?” Louis asked plenty of questions remained on his face as if he couldn’t discern if it was a term of endearment or if Harry was referring to a growing human in utero.

“Taxi’s fine,” Harry said when he was feeling almost normal again. Maybe he was just overreacting. But then there had been the blood too.

Shit.

Louis nodded briefly with conviction and ringed a black cab, never letting his gaze falter from Harry. He escorted Harry outside carrying his bag like a gentleman and when the cab finally arrived, he hopped inside too. They didn’t say anything during the fifteen-minute drive to the hospital but Harry could feel Louis' presence all the time and was grateful for that. He knew his secret was out but couldn’t think about what it would mean in the long run. 

And besides, Louis must have figured out he was pregnant but not that he was involved too.

When they arrived at the London Bridge Hospital the pain had morphed from sharp stabs to a dull ache in his lower belly and Harry had no idea if it was a good or bad sign. He was handed an intake form to fill in and soon after he was called into a doctor’s exam room. 

“Do you want me to come with you? I can wait here too, if not.” Louis inquired tentatively when Harry carefully pushed himself up from the seat. 

Harry looked at him in surprise, but after a small pause, he nodded to Louis who followed him to the room. They removed their overcoats and were seated on two upholstered chairs near the doctor’s desk. She introduced herself as Dr. Markle and started to ask Harry questions. The more intimate her questions became, the more Harry regretted allowing Louis to come into the room with him. 

“I’m going to send you for blood tests afterward but it seems to me, like you suspected as well Harry, that you’re pregnant. I’d like to do an ultrasound now because of the bleeding and pain you had today.” Dr. Markle explained. When Harry nodded in agreement, she guided him onto the examination table and asked him to raise his white Oxford shirt and slightly lower his woollen trousers down his hips.

“The father can stand over here.” She gestured as she advised Louis before squeezing cold gel on Harry’s belly from a tube. Harry could feel his face redden when he heard the doctor's words but didn’t do anything to correct her either. Mainly because there wasn’t so much to correct anyway. And besides, Louis wasn’t a stupid man so he might already have calculated the plausibility in his head.

_Thumpthumpthump_.

After determining it was Harry’s heartbeat echoing from the monitor, he began to hear a softer thumping sound fill in the room. It was strong, regular, and altogether such a powerful experience that Harry couldn’t keep his eyes from welling up. He didn’t know if he was so emotional from relief or because his worst fears had actualised. 

No matter what it was, he just couldn’t contain his emotions anymore.

The doctor turned the monitor at an angle that Harry and Louis could easily see. There was a small figure floating in the middle of black and white screen, “Baby’s heartbeat is very strong and I would say based on the information you gave and this scan, you’re about 12 weeks pregnant now, Mr Styles.” 

“And your due date is the 4th of September.” She added when she handed a printed ultrasound picture to a mind boggled Harry.

“What about the bleeding and the pain he had earlier?” Louis asked, taking the photo from Harry’s hand when he was about to drop it on the floor.

“They aren’t so unusual at the beginning of the pregnancy. It was good that you came to check that everything was alright, especially since you haven’t seen a doctor before this,” She chastised, as she wiped off the remains of the gel from Harry’s belly “but everything seems to be fine. But you need to rest for a few days now, Harry, just in case.”

“What if I want to… umm… like… don’t want to— umm?” Harry stuttered awkwardly and from the corner of his eye, he saw Louis’ eyes glaring at him. He hated himself for asking but he just had to know about that option too. It wasn’t that simple; he was talking about a decision that would alter and affect the rest of his life.

The doctor didn’t even blink her eyes, kudos for that, she told him that UK laws dictate he had until twenty-three weeks of gestation to terminate the pregnancy and gave him some pamphlets to take home alongside with a stack of pregnancy guides and advised him to contact the midwifery clinic as soon as possible, no matter what his decision would be.

A taxi ride to Harry’s flat was, to say the least, awkward. After they had left the doctor's room, Louis had looked at Harry with concern and then stated flatly, “ We need to talk”. All Harry could do at that point was nod in agreement while looking out the window.

So here they were, sat in Harry’s living room and drinking the chamomile tea Louis had made them while Harry changed from his suit to a pair of trackies and a hoodie. Louis had taken his suit jacket and tie off and popped open a few upper buttons to make himself more comfortable.

“Am I the father?” It was Louis who finally broke the silence.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, whilst staring intently at the ‘House of Commons — Votes For Women’ mug he was holding between his palms.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you think I have a right to know too?” There wasn’t accusation in Louis’ voice, rather, a hidden sadness and hurt behind the words.

“I—” Tears puddled at the corners of Harry’s eyes again. “I just found out recently too, okay? And it’s been quite a shock. I don’t know what to do—” Harry said miserably.

“M’sorry, love.” Louis kneeled in front of Harry, placing the complementary ‘Honourable Lady’ mug he was drinking from on the table and took his hands into his own. “I didn’t mean to sound cross. This is a bit of a shock for me too,” Louis smiled shortly. 

“Yeah but it's not happening _to you_ , like your body I mean,” Harry huffed, giving a tiny smile and wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. 

Then Louis’ face became serious again as he asked in a cautiously light timbre, “Were you serious about the abortion?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know!” Harry cried out desperately. “Never in my life have I seriously thought about having kids. I’ve focused on my work and I don't know how those two things could work successfully in the long run. I don’t even know if I like kids!” Harry blurted out all the thoughts that worried him at once. Aside from his nieces and nephews of course, but like, the idea of kids in general.

Louis wrapped his strong arms around Harry and stroked his back soothingly. “Look, I understand this is a big thing—”

“Massive,” Harry sniffed.

“Right, massive,” Louis corrected obediently, “But I want you to know you’re not alone. I’m with you on this. No matter what.”

“Thanks,” Harry murmured against Louis’ shoulder. He had dreaded this conversation but now what Harry really felt was a relief. He finally had someone he could talk to.

Louis eventually pushed himself up from the floor and sat on the sofa next to Harry. “Look, I know what I’m going to say next is bold, but I just have to say it.”

Harry frowned a bit. “Okay...”

“You said you’re considering terminating the pregnancy as an option and you have every right to do so. It’s your body, we’re talking about, yeah?” Louis hurried to say. “ _But_ if you don’t want to keep the baby, would you consider giving birth and I would keep and raise them on my own?” 

“You’d want to raise it— them alone?” 

“I mean, ideally I hope we could raise the baby together and therefore be able to give them two parents.” Louis produced a faint half-smile before continuing, “But I also realise that isn’t always possible, for one reason or another. That’s why I’m saying that if you were leaning towards having the baby, I’d like to give you that option as well.” 

“You want to have this kid?” Harry had to double-check he had understood correctly. 

“I do. More than you’d believe,” Louis said simply. “But in essence, this is all about what you want.”

Now the dilemma was, Harry had no idea what he wanted. 

***

In the end, Harry didn’t have an abortion. 

Deep inside, he had known from the start he couldn’t do it. Even though their first conversation about the baby had caused Harry more confusion afterwards, the ones that had followed in the weeks after had helped Harry to make his decision. When he’d told Louis he was going to keep the baby and wanted to raise them together, Louis had burst into tears of joy, happiness and relief. 

“Harry, you really, truly don’t know how much this means to me.” He had sobbed and he could only counter Louis’ elation with a manufactured grin. He was going to have a baby but the only time he had felt a connection to this creature inside his belly was at the first ultrasound where he heard the heartbeat. Since then he’s been void of any emotional attachment and Harry was starting to feel like an unfit mum because he couldn’t access the emotion required to nurture and protect his own unborn baby. 

At first, it had been easier to ignore his own pregnancy and hope in time he would come around again. However, when his baby belly popped out seemingly out of nowhere, it had been a constant reminder ever since. Especially when people were starting to notice his pregnancy and congratulate him, Harry hid his feelings behind contrived smiles.

***

It was Sunday and Louis had come over again, the second time that week. Since Louis had found out, they had spent an increasing amount of time together, and truthfully; Harry didn’t mind one bit. He had enjoyed their compatibility more than he ever had thought he would. 

On that particular afternoon, Harry had been preparing them a late lunch of cheese toasties and Louis was watching football in the lounge. He had just flipped the last one in the pan with his right hand while his left hand rested on his belly. 

Then he felt it.

A faint bounce against his palm. Was that gas? He was barely at twenty weeks and all the guides said first-time mums likely wouldn’t feel the kicks before the twenty-fourth week outside their bellies. Harry shrugged, shut off the hob and plated their lunch.

“Lou!” Harry shouted when it happened again. This time it was even stronger than the first time. 

“What?!” Louis ran into the kitchen fearing something bad had happened.

“Baby kicked,” Harry marvelled eyes round, both hands placed on his rounded belly. “I’m quite sure about it.” 

“Really?” Louis said astonished, he quickly placed his own hands alongside Harry’s. 

They waited what felt like a quarter-hour, and disappointment in Louis’ eyes grew every second. Harry felt awful, he raised his hopes, and then nothing happened, wondering if he had imagined it all too.

They both were startled when the baby finally kicked one more time.

“I felt it!” Louis yelped, eyes crinkled and sparkling. “That was our baby!”

Then it hit Harry. The feeling he had hoped for since discovering he was pregnant, but which has stayed hidden thus far. 

Love. 

A foreign type of love surged throughout his body, a love Harry had never felt before. Pure, almighty love that washed all his doubts away with one tiny punt. 

“We’re going to have a baby,” Harry whispered and for the first time, he actually felt happy about it.

***

Harry had heard how some expecting mums had a certain glow during their pregnancies but he never thought he could be one of them. However, when he had finally begun to enjoy the experience, he had just bloomed. 

Harry loved the way his rounded belly looked. In the beginning, he tried to hide it as much as possible, now he selected clothing that highlighted it. He binge read all the possible baby books he could find and was sure he drove Louis crazy with his constant baby talk. 

Though he assured Harry that his baby talk didn’t drive him crazy, Louis for sure had that effect on Harry. 

Or rather, his hormones. 

But in this case, hormones had taken over Harry and they had gone wild. It's as though he was back to his adolescent years and as a result, Harry was constantly horny and that was no exaggeration. Today he had been home after work for three hours and had managed to wank twice during that time. 

_Twice_. Imagine.

And once before leaving home in the morning. His lowest point was two days ago during the Prime Minister’s Question time when he seriously contemplated going to the loo to get himself off.

He didn’t, of course. But right now, that option didn’t seem so far fetched.

They were on the sofa, Louis sitting upright and Harry resting his head against his thigh. That position wasn’t so unusual for them now but the physical proximity to Louis’ cock wasn’t the main reason that caused his already supercharged sex drive to spiral out of control.

No, it was Louis’ hand absentmindedly caressing Harry’s belly and every now and then, it slipped lower and touched Harry’s bare skin where the hem of his shirt ended. Thank god his bump was blocking Louis’ view to his lower section, which right now was pretty telling. 

“Have you thought about names?” Louis asked suddenly.

“Eh…?”

“Baby names.” Louis laughed at Harry’s confusion.

“Oh,” Harry blushed, tugging his shirt lower. “I have some favourites.”

“Want to share?” Louis grinned.

“Darby, Quinn, Adley.” Harry listed them off, a soft smile caressing on his lips. “Marley.”

“Marley,” Louis tasted the name. “I like that. Marley Styles.”

“Or Tomlinson,” Harry corrected automatically. “Or Styles-Tomlinson.”

“Do you want us to get married?” Louis’ forehead furrowed when he hoisted himself up a bit.

“No…” Harry muttered, shifting himself too. “S’just the baby can have both of our surnames.”, to which Louis smiled fondly.

“We can get married if you want to,” Louis promised when Harry glanced at him.

“What would it change anyway? It’s not like we’re not living in the previous decades,” Harry huffed amusedly.

“Some people just want to be married before their baby is born,” Louis shrugged.

Harry hummed. “Well, maybe those same people had actually dated before they rushed to the altar,” Harry said dryly. The marriage had never been on his bucket list either.

“Do you want us to date then?” Louis asked while his finger drew figure-eights on Harry’s arm, distracting his thoughts.

“I didn’t say that either. Stop putting words in my mouth,” Harry snarled.

“No, you didn’t. But I did.” 

“You want to date me…?” Harry tilted his head back so he was able to meet Louis’ eyes to see if he was serious.

“Yes. But only if it’s something you would like to do. If not, we just continue like this and co-parent,” Louis said, sounding sincere. “Have you ever thought about us dating?”

“I have,” Harry admitted after a moment's contemplation, and more so lately. Obviously this pregnancy contributed to these thoughts, but it's not the only reason. 

It has been so cozy, and natural even, to spend time with Louis. To talk and banter with him. To cook lovely family meals for the two of them; something Harry barely bothered to do when it was just him, no matter how much he liked cooking. But most of all it was the physical closeness. And no, this time Harry didn’t mean sex. It would definitely be a bonus, but after years in a drought, Harry had started to realise how much he actually longed just to be close to someone else. Like Louis.

“And…?” Louis gave Harry a light impatient nudge when he just remained silent.

“And what?” Perhaps Harry looked confused at the question so he burst into laughter when he noticed it.

“Us, you fool,” Louis smiled, softly ruffling Harry’s curls.

“Oh,” Harry blushed at his own silliness. It wasn’t until Louis tilted his head in interrogation that Harry’s brain registered he was actually waiting for a response. 

“Maybe we could…?” Harry’s pitch raised at the end of the statement as he bit his lip.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to. As I said, I’m not going anywhere. I will commit to our child, either way, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“No, no,” Harry exclaimed.”It’s not that.”

“Do you want to expand on that, love?” Louis said brushing Harry’s hand with his thumb. 

“I’m shit at relationships. I haven’t been in a one for— Jesus Christ, I can’t even remember when the last time was. I really like you, Louis—”

“But you don’t want to date,” Louis completed Harry’s sentence in defeat.

“No!” Harry piped. “I mean yes.”

“Huh…?” Louis’ face distorted in confusion.

“Sorry, that came out badly,” Harry winced as he apologized. “What I meant was, yes, I’d like to try. But because our situation is slightly unusual,” Harry smirked, patting his belly, “I’d like to take this slowly so we can see how things go. Who knows, we could wind up hating each other this time next year!” Harry jested. Of course, he hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

“Of course. I don’t think either of us wants to jump into a relationship blindly. Especially when there’s a baby involved in this too.”

“So, are we trying this…?” Harry hoisted himself up to give Louis a furtive glance.

“I’m afraid so,” Louis smiled merrily and lifted his hand to Harry’s cheek, slowly brushing his cheekbone. “Would it be too forward if I kiss you?”

Harry shook his head briefly and gulped down the small lump that had suddenly nestled there. He licked his lips and leaned towards Louis to welcome his lips on his own. 

It was sweet, gentle, and way too short. However, once he started, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He crashed their lips together again and kissed Louis with fire and fervour. When he responded back with the same enthusiasm, Harry climbed onto his lap. He was already rock-hard and if Louis turned him down now, Harry’s balls would explode in frustration. 

“What happened to taking it slowly?” Louis laughed teasingly.

“Oh, shut up. I meant in general,” Harry started to nip at Louis' lip while he ground down on his cock, causing them both to hiss at the connection. They hadn't done this since the night they conceived so needless to say it wasn't going to take much for either to find release.

Louis placed his hands on the warm skin of Harry's sides, placing his thumbs at the jut of his hip bones as he helped him rock back and forth for a few seconds before travelling his hands to the front to tease at the head of his cock through his trackies. Harry moaned as he arched into Louis’ fingers, giving him the go ahead to kick things up a notch.

Louis tucked his fingers under the waistband of Harry's trackies as Harry raised up slightly to accommodate and Louis freed Harry's cock and balls from the prison of the fabric. He thumbed at the tip where a bead of precome had formed and spread it around the head, using it to glide his foreskin down his shaft and began slowly pumping his hand up and down. With his other hand, he took his balls and gently rolled them with his fingers. Harry bit his lip head and tilted backwards; he was really fucking close to coming right there on the spot. 

Louis must have leafed through his memories from their previous sexual encounters because he stopped fondling his sac to trailed his fingers up to Harry’s right nipple and traced little circles around the pebbled centre of his areola before pinching it on the good side of rough, causing Harry to cry out and spill all over Louis’ hand. 

“Ohh fuck, Lou, fuck, that’s so good.” Harry panted as he rode out the rest of his orgasm in his lap. He slumped his head onto Louis’ shoulder as he caught his breath. He slowed his rhythmic gyrations on Louis’ cock until he came to a complete stop and giggled. He looked down at Louis’ crotch and noticed it was still rock hard. “Lou, let m—” Harry started before Louis cut him off.

“S’alright love, I’m okay, I love watching you, I guess I focused too much on that and not on my own pleasure,” he confessed, with a slight blush.

“No Lou, s’not fair, let me get you off too.” He offered, as he pawed at the crotch of Louis’ basketball shorts. He leaned down to whisper into Louis’ ear, “I’m not done yet, still didn’t get to feel you in me.”

Louis jumped up in reaction; Harry was still in his lap and had to quickly stand on his own two feet lest he be thrown to the ground in Louis’ horny haste to drag him to the bedroom.

Once inside, Harry wasted no time getting naked and crawling onto the bed on all fours panting and shaking his arse side to side, “Want your fingers, all of them.” 

A now-naked Louis knelt on the bed behind him and sat on his heels. He grabbed the lube from where he knew Harry kept it and began to finger Harry. He started gently with one finger and worked his way up to four, where he pumped his fingers in and out at a tortuously slow pace as Harry gyrated his hips side to side and back and forth.

When Harry felt he was prepped enough, he noticed the weight hanging from his middle was starting to become uncomfortable. “Okay, I’m good, just gonna lay on my side, s’easier for me.”

“Course, love, on yer side then.” He slapped his arse cheek in encouragement.

Harry situated himself and popped his arse out towards Louis’ cock so he could get in at a better angle. Louis pushed inside in one go, thanks to the thorough prepping, and began to rock gently back and forth until he was into the hilt.

He pumped away for eons until Harry decided he couldn’t reach his climax that way. He pulled away from Louis’ cock when it entered again and turned his head to find a dumbfounded look on Louis’ face.

“Want to ride you, Lou. Then I can get myself off at the same time. Want you to focus on yourself this time, yeah?” He didn’t wait for a response, he climbed back on top and raised himself up enough to allow Louis’ to guide his cock back to his rim, where he sat down hungrily and began moving his hips around like a gyroscope. 

Now, this was much better. He gripped his cock and closed his eyes as Louis continued to watch him. Harry was too fucked out to notice that Louis wasn’t moving at all. He felt fingers tentatively touch his nipples, he opened his eyes and looked down at Louis’ fingers, noticing they were shiny. He glanced at Louis who looked completely enamoured, he drew his gaze back to his nipples and noticed they were secreting tiny drops of yellow colostrum. At first, he was embarrassed, but when he saw Louis’ expression it squashed that feeling and replaced it with pride. 

He continued riding Louis while stripping his own cock in rhythm. He felt the absence of Louis’ ministrations on his nipples and looked to find Louis bringing his forefinger to his mouth and lick the liquid off his finger and moaned, repeating the same action with the other finger and that was it for Harry. He came in his hand and on Louis’ chest. If Louis was hungry he certainly had something else he could feed him. He swiped his finger through the still-warm come and brought it up to Louis’ lips and finger-fed it to him. 

Harry felt him buck up a few times before stilling his hips, and the primal moan that emanated from him signified that Louis had just come inside Harry. It was the perfect end to a perfect fuck. 

Being pregnant wasn’t so bad after all.

***

_I hate being pregnant_ , Harry thought as he put away a file high up on his credenza and then plopped on the seat feeling completely exhausted. He pushed his hand against his bump trying to ease an annoying ache that has bothered him all day. It faded a bit, but soon it started again. 

He was in his final trimester, two days shy of thirty-six weeks to be exact, and couldn’t imagine how he would feel full term since he’s already so fucking fed up with feeling like a beached whale. The glow on his face had been replaced with pure sweat. He hadn’t seen what was left of his swollen feet for weeks. His favourite shoes were unwearable because of the swelling, nevermind his rings. Once this watermelon is out, he never wants to see or wear any jumpsuits or kaftans again — he refused to call them muu muu’s. They had been the only clothes beside some oversized trackies that fit him now. 

His condition made existing harder every day and the sweltering heat outside didn’t help matters at all. He couldn’t sleep properly anymore, he either had to use the loo every half hour, or the baby was Highland dancing against his lower ribs, and to make matters worse; his back was killing him. It had been hurting so badly these last couple of days that Harry wanted to cry. 

Louis had begged him to stay home this morning, like many others over the weeks when Harry had aired his grievances, but Harry had been determined to work to his last day before his official maternity leave began. Not that he had done anything meaningful today. He had read his emails, organized his papers and cleaned his desk so he could come back to a neat office when the time was right. Louis had insisted on helping but after a while Harry had kicked him out, stating he hindered more than he helped. Harry had promised to meet him downstairs at noon and they would then go for lunch. 

_I should leave soon,_ Harry muttered to himself when he glanced at his watch and laboriously elevated himself up from the chair. He heard noises coming from the deserted hallway. Not long after, he saw the Prime Minister with Dan Wootton sailing past by the doorway; Wooton’s a leech who called himself a political journalist, Johnson’s a bampot who calls himself a Prime Minister. Moving on.

Harry attempted to rush until he remembered his condition and slowed his pace to catch up with them. He slipped his feet into the shoes he had taken off, snatched up his leather messenger bag and waddled after the pair. There were a couple of things Harry wanted to say to the blond man before his inevitable break from the House of Commons.

“Wait!” Harry yelled, panting when the pair entered the lift.

“Rude!” Harry seethed when the doors closed just metres away. Another lift arrived quickly but it did nothing for Harry’s mood. Instead, he had a few more choice words for them.

“Oi!” No sooner had Harry stepped out from the lift to catch their attention, pain reverberated through his body causing him to wince as he tried to walk through the pain. After a few steps, he had to give up and wait until it eased.

_Shit that hurt_ , Harry thought, frowning. If his due date was sooner, Harry would chalk it up to Braxton-Hicks contractions. He made a note to ask the nurse about those at his midwife appointment tomorrow.

Harry was about to move on when the pain hit again. Much stronger and sharper this time and taking his breath away. A low moan escaped his lips, no matter how hard he tried to stay quiet. Less than a minute later, the pain subdued and Harry could stand straight again.

“Harry!” Louis ran towards him, panic visible in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “I just had a couple of— AARRGH!” Harry’s scream echoed through the spacious central lobby. This made him drop to his knees and all he could do was try to focus on breathing through the brutal contraction. 

Because that's what they were, weren’t they? 

But why were they so strong and practically one after the other? That was something that happened in films when they needed to speed up the scene, but not in real life; and not especially for him. 

And besides, it was way too soon.

“We’ll go to the hospital right now,” Louis said firmly. “Baby will be fine, even if it’s a bit early. I’ll call us a taxi.”

No sooner had he uttered the words before the pain returned, and worse than ever. It was relentless and left no time between to even catch his breath to cope with the next one. 

Before he knew it, everything went blurry. Louis’ soothing voice was the only constant during his entire labour that Harry could remember afterwards. 

It felt as though he was on a speeding train that couldn’t be stopped. Everything around him just happened.

The ambulance. The faceless figures and noises around him. The operating theatre. The shakes and the frigid feeling of being cold.

His arms were strapped to the side, splayed out as if he was nailed to a crucifix. He was numb from the chest down due to the epidural. Suddenly he felt a vague sensation from his abdomen as if something was being vigorously pulled out. And then complete and utter silence.

The pain had ceased but Harry was more terrified than ever.

“Why don’t I hear crying?” Harry begged, sobbing and clasping onto Louis’ hand as though it were his life-line.

Louis didn’t say anything. With his eyes, he followed every move the nurses made before a high-pitched cry cut the agonizing silence in the room and Harry burst into tears of relief.

“She was just a little startled from her fast arrival, is all.” The operating theatre nurse smiled as she placed the baby on Harry’s chest.

“She?”

“Yes, she looks like a perfect little angel, Harry. Congratulations.” 

“She _is_ perfect,” Harry sniffed when he looked at their tiny baby girl for the first time.

“She is,” Louis looked at her, mirth in his eyes and Harry was sure he looked the same.

At that moment, all that mattered was the earth-shattering, all-encompassing, everlasting love he felt for his daughter.

Their daughter.

TBC

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading; hope you liked my fic! Every kudos and comment is highly appreciated and each of them means so much to me.
> 
> Here is also a Tumblr [post](https://mizzhydes.tumblr.com/post/625186669665124352/there-goes-my-life%E2%80%9Drel=) you to reblog, if it is something you would consider to do. 
> 
> If you have something to ask, or just want to say hi, you can always contact me.
> 
> Tumblr [mizzhydes](http://mizzhydes.tumblr.com)  
> Twitter @MsHydeStylinson


End file.
